Obama's Mom

In the whole scheme of things, I know that God will be the King of of whoever is selected to be president, so in the large picture, I'm not worried. I will always be human and always get distracted by the day-to-day stuff of what to wear, what I will eat, and who to vote for.
So when it comes time to select a running mate for the candidates there is a major disability to speak of. I'm talking about Senator Obama.
With a name like his, there are certain limitations. It's something that has plagued him since childhood. For instance, he can't call his mother "mama" otherwise her name would be Obama's Mama.
Other things Obama can't do:

• He can't buy a llama.
• He can't go to the Bahamas.
• Can't join drama.
• Can't wear pajamas.
• Can't participate in Ramadon.
• Cannot be seen eating or mention Hostess products (Obama Ding Dong)
• He must stay away from inverted commas.
• He mmust never visit the Dalai Lama
• And finally he must avoid things that are sensational or that could conjure up thoughts of a great movement among people, otherwise people will refer to the movement as an Obama-rama.

So he chose Biden. He really dodged a bullet on that one.

Scripture Tattoo

On the cuff of that last tattoo blog, I recently traveled to Dallas and back. On the last leg of the flight I overheard this young woman (mid 20s) talking about how she wanted to get a tatoo. She really couldn't stop talking about it. And unfortunately I was in the worst possible place: too close to block it out and too far away to engage her and influence her discussion.

Side note: if you ever want to stop someone from talking, never underestimate the power of a creepy man. All I had to do was ask a couple questions like: 'Hey I like tattoos, where are you going to put it?' Or maybe 'Hey my friend does tattoos. I bet he would be willing to work you a deal,' swiftly followed up by a wink. Creepy can be a curse or a gift.

Anyhoo, she went on and on about her friends who had them. How large or small they were. Mainly she spoke about putting this tattoo on her back. It's impossible for me to want to be some place else more than at that moment. While I'm stuck on a plane after three hours of unexpected layover, nothing but the weather channel being broadcast because I wouldn't pay the $5.95 for 80 minutes of cable, and tattoo girl won't quit talking.

Then there was the idea of scripture. She kept on saying scripture. Now I'm not anti-scripture. In fact I'm quite for it. But if that was the only word I knew for God's word it might seem that I didn't know very much about 'scripture.'
"I'm thinking of putting a scripture on my shoulder. What do you think?"
It seems like scripture would be so neat to have.
Some sort of scripture
scripture would be cool
I swear, if there weren't Federal laws about threatening people on a plane...
So at the end of the flight, I did the only thing I could. I told her I couldn't help but over hear her and made a 'scripture' suggestion. Job 8:2.
I told her from what I could tell, it applied to her.

Man. Scripture memorization really came in handy that time.

"How long will you say such things? Your words are a blustering wind."

Here's Johnny

I used to work with this other lady who was mental. By mental, I mean she was probably a day’s meds away from really hurting someone. Best practices for mental co-workers.

1. Look them straight in the eye. A stapler or other heavy office supply can be a deadly tool in the hands of someone like this.
2. No matter what they say, no matter how odd or dangerous, act as though everything is normal.
3. Offer up handy suggestions that may temporarily stun them so you can escape.

Case in point: This girl, I’ll describe her as a short version of Elvira, was always talking smack about her boyfriend or her fight with him or a fight with someone who had just talked to her boyfriend.
I noticed a tattoo on short Elvira’s arm that was majorly messed up. It looked like someone had grafted skin over skin just to cover this thing up.

Now remember what I said about step two, no matter what they say.

She told me that the tattoo said “Johnny,” her ex boyfriend. The day they broke up she took a hot iron and burned his name clear off. Quickly honing in on an advanced combo of step 1 & step 3, I looked her in the eyes and asked her, “Why didn’t you just find another boyfriend named Johnny?” That was my chance. She starred into oblivion thoroughly stunned. I grabbed my stapler and bolted for the door.

Super Genius

Mason is my 3 year old son, I have two boys. The whole terrible twos thing is a boldface lie. It’s the threes. Or maybe it’s the twos and threes but they’re still so cute at two you hardly notice, and the bites aren’t as potent.

So Mason is known for pushing the limits and defying authority, totally his mother’s influence. So when he drew me this picture I was so proud because it showed he was really taking time away from the daily fits to make this special picture for me. I even took it to work.

Some people asked me about the clown robot (Miles). This one woman at work asked me about this one. She was clearly impressed. She stared hard. Too hard. She asked how he drew it. I told her that my son had just done the colored parts.

What the (expletive) ?!?!? Did she seriously thinka three year old would draw this rendition of Green Lantern and then forget the lines he drew only to go all artsy with a crayon? If so, I’m never sending him to art school. I think I’ll send him straight to ‘good decision' school.

Samsonite

I reread 1st Kings recently. I always love the part about Samson. Great read. His long hair enabled him to have ultimate strength. God gave him that strength and he abused it. Samson did what he pleased and even married a foreign woman, the modern day stigma equivalent to marrying a French-Canadian. Samson was believed to be the strongest thing on earth until his undoing. To this day, anything that is stronger than Samson is referred to as Samsonite®.

Samson was tricked into dumb contests and battles of wit (sans iocaine powder). Each time he lost it was his own fault and usually because of his pride. He took it out on everyone around him, or whatever animals available. He was super duped over and over again. And he refused to take anyone’s advice. This, my dear readers, is the same as me. I am a lot like Samson. Sometimes I don’t listen to reason from friends and family and I even take it out on those around me including small animals. In fact, I am just like Samson...except the long hair...and my arms are near atrophy. And I would not be caught dead in boots like the ones in the picture. And I would never, EVER, marry a French-Canadian.